Solemn Vow
by Jazelle1996
Summary: Lydia Caldwell travels to Shreveport in search of a certain vampire for two reasons: To help her out of a dangerous predicament, and answer some questions. But will her efforts be in vain? Rated M for language/sexual content. ALTERNATE UNIVERSE
1. Chapter 1

Lydia stood hidden behind the pine tree outside Fangtasia in Shreveport for an hour watching people go into the bar, as well as those that walked out. She was hoping to catch a glimpse of owner, but all she saw were punked-out humans and freaky-dressed vampires. Watching the female at the entrance door checking IDs, Lydia quickly deducing she was a vampire, appearing to have some type of authority there.

After driving the sixteen hours from Raleigh, North Carolina, she was hungry and extremely tired. Other than food and sleep, she just wanted to get it over with, although it was going to be more difficult than she thought it would be. She didn't want to have to go inside. The fewer vampires she ran into, the better.

Gathering all the courage she could muster, walking on her Jello legs, she approached the entrance, waiting her turn. Finally standing before the bouncer, Lydia handed her her driver's license. Avoiding her eyes, staring no higher than her collarbone, she said, "I need to speak with the owner of this bar, please."

"You like what you see?" the vampire purred. Lydia didn't reply. Handing her the card back, she asked, her voice more severe, "What makes you think I'd allow that?"

"Because it's of a dire matter," Lydia answered.

"For the owner or for you?" she asked, taking a step closer.

Lydia's eyes didn't move, nor did she back off. "None of your business."

"Hey! Come on!" someone hollered from behind me. "What's the hold up?"

"You by your neck if you don't pipe down, human!" the bouncer barked back before turning back to Lydia. "Little girl, it is my business when it comes to my maker." Her tone was then a snarl.

"I've asked nicely. Please tell him I am looking for Magnus Erickkson."

"Who?"

"The owner, you know, your maker." Lydia was about to cross dangerous territory.

The vampire snickered. "Watch your sarcasm with me. And do you really think …" the vampire stepped even closer to Lydia, forcing her to close her eyes, "… that you can avoid my eyes so as not to glamour you to find the truth?"

"I'm doing a pretty good job, aren't I?" Lydia had officially crossed the line, and she kept her eyes closed tighter.

"Excuse me, what seems to be the problem here, Pam?" said a voice suddenly.

From the instant Eric had seen her when he landed from flight in front of the bar he knew who she was. There was no denying it the closer he approached from behind her. The tall, slender woman with curvy hips and nice, full breasts, her chestnut, wavy hair cascading over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back … yes, he knew her. She was a splitting image of her 5th great-grandmother. And he wondered what exactly she needed from him.

"This human is looking for a Magnus Erickkson."

"Reeeely?" Eric slurred intentionally. "And what does she want with this Magnus?"

"Don't know, and do not rightly give a rat's ass."

"Is she blind?" he snickered.

"No. She thinks if she doesn't look at us we will not glamour her."

Eric laughed then brought his lips just inches from Lydia's ear. "If I want to glamour you I will do so, and you will be none the wiser." He stepped back. "Who are you?"

"My name … I'm Lydia," she replied, suddenly terrified and afraid she'd made the wrong decision. With her eyes closed as long as they had been, she was becoming slightly lightheaded from fatigue.

"Come with me," he said.

"And who might you be?" she asked.

"I might be Eric Northman, or I might be the owner of this bar, or I might be able to lead you to this Magnus person."

Lydia's eyes being closed, she had no way to confirm it was indeed the one she'd come for. She put her head down as far as she could and slowly opened her eyes, making sure to keep them glued on her own two feet. Many sets of legs passed her, as it seemed Pam was letting people into the bar.

Lydia was 5'9," seven inches shorter than the male, and from her peripheral vision she could only see that he had dark blonde hair. It wasn't enough to convince her of a thing. "You are Eric Northman, the owner?"

"I am."

"Prove it."

"Your family name is Caldwell, is it not?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "Yes." It was enough to convince her. "May I talk with you, privately, please?"

"Inside."

"No, out here, in public."

"You do not trust me?"

She hesitated. "You, yes, but …"

"You trust no one else," he finished.

"Yes."

"You are wise, Lydia Caldwell."

In the blink of an eye, Eric had made eye contact with Lydia, and she could not look away. His dark blonde hair, his captivating green eyes, his cleft chin – it was the man that could take her to Magnus.

"Do not be frightened. I will not glamour you," Eric whispered.

Lydia's shoulders remained tense, though her face seemed to relax. "Inside, then?"

"This way, Lydia. Pam, stay." She shot him a nasty look before he put his hand on the small of Lydia's back and led her to a secluded booth in the corner, sitting down across from her. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you," she replied, her eyes now locked on his chin. Eric found it amusing she wouldn't look into his eyes.

Her stomach gurgled. "Are you hungry?"

She frowned. "No. Look, I just need—"

"Do not lie to me. I heard your stomach growl. I'll repeat myself. Would you like something to eat?"

She hesitated before she answered, "Sure. I'd like a steak, medium rare…"

"A woman after my own heart," Eric snarked.

"… Baked potato with sour cream and butter on the side, garden salad, no onions, with Raspberry Vinaigrette, and two rolls."

"Anything for dessert?" he asked seriously.

"Sure. Brasa Brazilian has the best roasted pineapple sprinkled with cinnamon."

"Brasa Brazilian?"

"It's a steakhouse in Raleigh. Pretty expensive, too. Make sure you take enough cash." Lydia had not only crossed the line, she dove right over it and kept on going. Sleep, she desperately needed sleep.

He narrowed his eyes at her then he stood. "I will have Pam stay with you. No harm will come to you. I give you my solemn vow."

Lydia was about to protest when Eric disappeared in front of her eyes and Pam sat down in his place. "You are messing with fire," Pam spat.

Lydia promptly locked her eyes to the coaster on the table. "And you are messing with a wooden stake." That didn't even make sense to Lydia. Sleep wasn't what she needed. She might as well go and kill herself before Pam did the job for her. "Where did he go?"

"No idea. What do you want with my maker?"

"That's between me and him." Lydia forced back a yawn. Despite her last stupid comment she knew she shouldn't show any vulnerability.

The two sat in silence for almost ten minutes, and the longer Lydia sat, the harder it was for her to keep her eyes open. Her head was becoming heavier and heavier each passing moment, regardless of her heart pounding with nerves.

Pam's attention was drawn behind the bar, and when Lydia turned to look, she saw nothing but a blur of moment. The blur was next at the booth, and Eric placed a plate with the steak and potato, two small dip cups with the sour cream and butter, a bread plate with the rolls, a bowl of salad with dressing and a dessert plate with the roasted pineapple. Lydia stared dumbstruck at the food.

"Hell, you aren't going to eat that disgusting—"

"Pam, leave us," Eric interrupted. She did in a huff, and Eric sat down across the table. "I would have been here five minutes earlier, but I had to go back for the rolls." Lydia's eyes widened. "Eat."

"I … how did you …"

"Don't ask. Now eat. When you are done, you will tell me what you want of Magnus."


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Lydia finished eating the steak dinner Eric had flown to the east to get she was full, yet she was still completely drained. Her eyes felt dry, her blinking becoming slower and slower. Eric seemed to read her mind, left her briefly in the booth and returned with a carafe of coffee and a mug, cream and sugar.

"Why are you here, Ms. Caldwell?" he asked as she stirred the brew.

She got right to the point. "Is Magnus still alive?"

"He is." He didn't elaborate.

"How can I reach him?"

"_You_ can't."

"Can you take me to him?"

"Yes."

Lydia was growing impatient at his short answers. "Look, I have been driving all day, and I'm exhausted. I'm really not in the mood to play twenty questions."

"Then why don't _you_ tell me what you know about Magnus."

She leaned back, crinkling the edges of a napkin. "I was ten when my dad told me, but I remember him telling me the story like it was yesterday. Magnus Erickkson's name has been passed down in our family for generations. He was our family's … fairy godfather, I guess you could say."

"It started with my 5th great-grandfather, James in the Civil War. In 1862, he reluctantly joined the 26th Infantry when Union troops had just crossed the Virginia-North Carolina border. They marched to Kinston, twenty miles east of Raleigh and met the Union soldiers the next day just before dusk. It was pretty heated, being that a third of the Confederates were killed."

"I really am _not_ interested in military strategies," he interrupted.

"You asked. Do you want to hear this or not?" she snapped.

He gave her a menacing half-grin. "Please, proceed."

"Anyway, there was a lull in the fighting after dark. James was hunkered down in a ravine alone when a man approached him, the enemy, covered in dirt, carrying a gun. James knew he was going to die, but the man … he didn't kill my grandfather. He drank from him, his blood. Then he left. James just thought he was delirious or dreaming. But fighting grew the following day and well into the night, and he came across the man again, who was injured. He was shot multiple times, stab wounds covering every inch of his body. From what I learned last year they must have been silver bullets, knives made of silver."

Eric nodded. "So I've heard."

"There was nothing James could do for him, but he didn't want to leave him, either. He knew he wouldn't last long in the woods, so he was going to cut his throat to put him out of his pain and suffering, not for the sake of the war. As James knelt beside him the soldier attacked him. The next thing my grandfather knew he was back in his farmhouse with his family, the soldier in the ice shelter deep in the earth and the sun rising."

"The next night Magnus, as it turned out, explained to James and Rose that he would have indeed died in the woods if the sun had come up, that he had some kind of rare disease. For my grandparents' generosity he vowed to forever be in the Caldwell's debt, and to pass the story on for generations to come, along with where to reach him."

She reached inside her purse and pulled out a piece of paper, so delicate it could possibly crumble if someone even looked at it. Beside each address was a name, each in different handwriting. Shoving it toward Eric, she said, "The addresses were from 1868 to 1888 in Boston. After that it was San Francisco until 1915, various places in France 'til 1945. My dad, Lyndon, wrote Arizona."

Taking a long swig of coffee, she continued. "Magnus did keep his word. He was there by my grandfather's sides during war, from George at the Battle of Liege to Charles at the Battle of the Bulge, William in Korea and my dad in Vietnam. Magnus saved every single one of them. But it wasn't just during battle. Elijah almost lost the farm in 1886 and Magnus gave him enough money to sustain it."

"Well, that is all very interesting," he drawled. "But if his last known address was Arizona, why did you come here looking for me?"

"You gave an interview about Fangtasia last year, a girlfriend saw it on youtube and she showed it to me."

"I'm flattered," he said arrogantly.

Sighing heavily, as she was becoming drowsy, she said, "When my mother died of cancer five years ago she reminded me to reach out to him if I ever found myself in trouble. I told her I had no idea what he looked like even if I did look for him. She said he was very handsome and admitted to having an affair with him after Dad died. And she was with him a lot, apparently."

To her, it seemed he grinned fondly. "How does that prove I know Magnus?"

Lydia slammed her fist on the table, frustrated. Taking the paper carefully and putting it in her purse, she pulled out a medallion, setting it in front of him. "In that interview you were wearing an identical one on a chain around your neck."

He picked it up, twirling it between his fingers. "Yes. Magnus gave me the twin." He hesitated a moment. "I will take you to him."

She instantly inflated, finally hearing what she wanted to hear. "Thank you."

"Tomorrow night."

That was _not_ what she wanted to hear. "Tonight, now," she said firmly.

He leaned forward, grabbed the napkin and threw it aside. The sudden movement caught her off guard, and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes. She turned her head to look away, but she couldn't. There was something captivating in his eyes, a sense of urgency that she didn't understand.

"No. You look as if you will pass out at any minute. You are exhausted. Go to … wherever you're staying and get some sleep. Meet me her tomorrow night at ten." He had not glamoured her, as he promised.

"I … I can't."

"Why would that be?"

"They're … they're …" At that point she knew she was losing her battle with sleep, and from her stuttering the last thing she wanted to do was show any sign of weakness. "I need you to hide me."

"Protect you," he reiterated. "Is that so?"

Whispering so softly she couldn't be sure he heard her, she said, "They're after me."

"Who are after you?"

"The king of eastern North Carolina, his henchmen."

Eric leaned back, scrutinizing Lydia's face, frowning. "Why is that?"

Looking back down at the table, forcing her eyes open, she replied, "Because I killed his child, his son."

His eyebrow rose as he looked at her incredulously. "You?"

"Yes."

"Killed a vampire?" He burst out laughing.

She was screwed, and she knew it. She'd be dead by the time she crossed the Carolina border. Getting up, she grabbed her purse and the medallion, gave Eric one last glare and stormed to the door, her eyes again on the floor. Then she hit a brick wall. Actually it was Eric, holding her tightly by her forearms. "Where do you think you are going, little girl?"

Trying to walk around him, she replied, "Stop calling me little girl! I am _not_—" She was so exhausted she'd tripped over her own feet, and fell right into Eric's arms. Without asking for permission, he lifted her in his arms, her feet dangling, her head resting on his chest. "Put … me … down," she said weakly.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that." He walked out the door, told Pam he was gone for the night and whisked her up into the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

Lydia must have dozed off in his arms because she woke up when Eric gently laid her down on a thick patch of grass. She was so startled and suddenly terrified being in a new, strange place, the woods, apparently, that she scooted back on her ass until she was stopped by a boulder and curled up into a sitting ball.

Keeping her eyes down, she watched a pair of shoes walk to a rock's face, at least forty feet high, bend over – she couldn't ignore his tight, jean-clad ass – cleared away twigs and dead grass then pressed down in the dirt. He stepped back as the rock parted.

She was astounded at what she was seeing, yet her mind wasn't completely awake to take it all in. "Where are we?"

"My lair. We're in Kentucky, the Black Mountain. The name is appropriate, don't you think?" He turned and looked at her.

"Kentucky?! How the hell did we get here?"

"We flew, courtesy of Northman airlines." He smirked, completely amused at teasing her.

"How long was I out?"

"Only about three minutes."

She could have sworn her brain exploded. "Okay, hold up."

"Ever wonder how James and Magnus made it twenty miles in such a short time to Raleigh from Kinston?"

"Yeah, well, no. Not really."

He knelt in front of her. "I have the ability to fly, Lydia." She just stared up at him, like it wasn't registering with her. He stood back up and put a hand down to her. "Come on inside."

She hesitated a moment before she took his hand, and he picked her up effortlessly. He turned and walked away, but she didn't move an inch. When he realized she wasn't following him, he turned around.

"I am _not _going in there with you."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself. You were the one that wanted protection, remember?" He went into the mountain.

She stood there pondering her predicament. He was right. She was the one that went to him for help in finding Magnus. Sucking it up, she walked in a crouched position, not know how high the ceiling would be; she never considered the fact that Eric was 6'3." Holding her breath, anxious at what she would find, she walked in a few feet and only then stood straight up. There were torches on the walls on either side of the door, another fifteen feet there were more, lighting her way.

Cautiously taking small steps as she walked, there was a slight turn to the right then it went down in a slight slant. She kept her hand on the moist walls, though there was nothing that would stop her from falling. More turns left and right, sloping down more and more.

A few minutes later, she came upon a fork, both lit, and Eric was nowhere to be found. "Eric?" she called out.

"Yes?" came a whisper behind her.

She turned around frightened, her eyes wide. "I … um …" Sighing, she ran her fingers through her hair, feeling a crying fit coming on from pure exhaustion.

"I wanted to show you where to urinate while I sleep during the day."

"Huh?"

"Humans are funny. Just go down about fifty feet. There are fissures that will take the waste away. You'll figure it out."

"Yeah, I know how to pee, thanks," she said sarcastically. He'd answered her question about where the waste went, so she was happy she didn't have to ask.

"While I sleep you will need to know where you are going." She nodded, suddenly taking him more seriously. "Stay here. I've got to close the portal." He was gone only a second before he returned. "Follow me."

Walking closely behind him, she stared only at his back. She did feel safe, even in what seemed as the depths of hell. Without warning the narrow corridor turned into one massive room. She stopped as Eric continued to walk toward a far off corner.

Set in the center was a couch and two recliners, separated by a coffee table. On the right was a king sized bed with a burgundy comforter and a nightstand; a torch burned dimly on the wall over the headboard. To the left of the room was another doorway, leading somewhere. Beside the door were a small refrigerator, a sink, and a small counter. One thing she noticed was how cold it was.

"Lydia?" Eric's voice resonated around her. She followed his voice and was surprised he was standing right beside her. "Let me show you where you can wash up." She was so amazed at how comfortable everything appeared to be.

Leading her to the opening by the refrigerator, the corridor was the same. "Eric, how did you get electricity down here?" she asked.

"Electrician," he replied. She just huffed, which he must have heard. "It's all wired to the top of the mountain. There are TVs in the wall by my bed, as well."

"Oh."

They walked a few more feet, the sound of running water becoming louder, into another space the size of a bathroom. "This was much more difficult."

Lydia looked around, her mouth hanging open. There was a sink, a steady stream of water coming from a small slit in the wall; a fabric-covered bench; a round tub made of the natural rock of the mountain, water also streaming into the full tub.

"Don't worry. There is a drain that constantly takes the dirty water out as the fresh water comes. You will find everything you need in the crevice in the wall up there. Towels are here." He showed her a small closet, and hanging there were her clothes she had packed for the trip.

"When … how …"

"While I was waiting for your steak I took the liberty of bringing your clothes here. I hope you do not mind."

The thought of him flying to Raleigh then back to Shreveport then to Kentucky … it was too much for her to comprehend. She shook her head.

"You have had the tour, as you humans say. I'll show you where you will sleep." Following him back to the main living area, the moment she laid her eyes on the bed she yawned. "I will sleep until seven tonight. There are plenty of books for you to read while I sleep, a TV in the wall, Nintendo and PlayStation already hooked up."

When she looked back at the bed she noticed her sweatpants and sweater lying at the foot of the bed. He must have been watching her. "Right there, around the corner, you can change there."

"Okay," was all she could say.

"Rest well," he said he took a few steps away.

Then a thought crossed her mind. "Eric, how did you know we'd be coming here? I mean, you brought my clothes."

"Because I heard about the mishap in North Carolina. If you had not come to me, I would have come to you."

"Wait, what?!"

He kept walking to his bed, took off his jacket then the t-shirt he was wearing underneath. She quickly looked away bashfully.

"You can look now. I'm in bed."

She looked at him ready to blast him until she saw him sitting up in bed, the covers just above his hipbones, his hands on the back of his head. She had to take a deep breath and said calmly. "You knew about Christian? Why would you come after _me_?"

"You haven't figured it out yet, have you?" he asked smugly.

"Figured what out?"

"I gave the matching medallion to James Caldwell as a token of my promise. I kept my solemn vow to your family."

"You … are … Magnus?" she asked stunned, sitting down hard on her temporary bed.

"Yes. I am Magnus Erickkson."

"Then … If you knew about Christian and my family, why in the _hell_ did you …"

"I wanted to hear you say it."

She didn't know whether she should be angry or grateful that she had indeed found Magnus. It was too much for her at the moment, so she grabbed her clothes, changed, and slipped into bed. She was asleep within seconds.


	4. Chapter 4

She stirred and rolled over in bed, the soft trickling of water echoing off in the distance. Not remembering where she was, she said, "Callie?" No four-legged feline jumped on the bed beside her to nudge her face and purr loudly, begging for her morning bowl of 9-Lives. She turned onto her back and stretched her body out, groaning to wear off the morning stiffness. The comforter was down at her waist, and she shivered in her cold bedroom. At first she cursed the building maintenance man, but then she remembered driving forever, going to a vampire bar, eating steak, being in … a cave. She bolted straight up in bed looking around her in a panic.

"You talk in your sleep," grumbled a man across the room.

When she realized she was indeed where she thought she was, she relaxed somewhat. "Magnus?"

"I have not used that name in a thousand years. You may call me Eric."

"I thought … A thousand years old?" She let that sink in. Grabbing her cell phone, she first noticed there was no reception, no big deal considering she was under a mountain. Then she looked at the time. "Two thirty? Wow. She yawned. "I thought you sleep during daylight."

"I do. As old as I am I do wake every now and again. Now shut up and let me go ba … to … sleee …"

Slipping off the bed, she then saw a thick, heavy robe at the end of the bed, as well as slippers on the floor. As rude as Eric might have been to her, he was at least thoughtful enough to leave them for her.

Hugging herself to keep warm, she tried to remember where the bathroom was, being that the tour she'd had was a little foggy. She stared at two passageways and picked one. Unfortunately it was the wrong one. Walking fast, as her bladder was screaming at her, she stopped and grunted at the huge boulder blocking her way.

She jumped in fear when a pair of huge, strong hands grabbed her shoulders, turned her around and pushed her back where she'd come, tilted her body to the left toward the other opening and gave her a small push. It happened so fast she didn't have time to act to the sudden invasion. "That way, human," Eric groaned.

Turning around, she found she was alone, and Eric was still sleeping on his bed. She thought she was hallucinating. Sighing, she went to the room, needing another look around to refresh her memory. Goosebumps erupted on her skin as she lowered her sweatpants and sat on the rock then laughed quietly. It definitely was an awkward feeling doing her business on a rock, a _cold, wet_ rock, but she managed.

Walking back to the living quarters, she noticed on the counter in the kitchen area a cereal box, bowl and spoon. She never ate first thing after she woke up, especially if she had as big of a meal as she had the night before. So she walked around the cavern taking a look at the few knick-knacks, titles of books and CDs, anything that might give her a clue as to what Eric Northman, aka Magnus Erickkson, was really like, any hint as to what kind of man, make that vampire, he was. Finding very few, she went to the paintings on the rock walls somehow secured. There were many, actually, most of snowy mountain ranges or landscapes and centuries-old villages.

Tentatively, she walked to Eric's bed to take a closer look at the frames she'd seen the night before, shadowed by the natural curves of the rocks. There were three paintings on one side of the bed and three photographs on the other. Curious, she quietly approached them to examine them more closely.

There was a man and women posing in each image. The paintings were of a couple standing on the front porch of a log cabin, a dog in the yard; sitting in chairs at a small, wooden dining table inside a house that looked straight out of 'Little House on the Prairie;' a man on a horse with a woman standing beside his leg. The photographs were of a couple standing outside an old building; a couple holding hands, their shadows cast from the full moon; and my parents sitting at the foot of a Christmas tree.

The main difference was the clothes they wore, as if they were taken over a long period of time. The similarities were the physical features to her, which she found perplexing. The major theme was that they all were either painting or taken at night.

"Your ancestors," Eric said faintly.

She looked at him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Turning back to the pictures, she said, "They're my grandparents?" She could hardly believe what she was seeing.

"Yes."

"I've often wondered what they looked like. The paintings, who did them?"

"I did."

She looked back at him flabbergasted. "They're beautiful."

"They're yours."

"Yeah, I understand that."

"No. Take them."

She could hardly argue with him. "No, Eric. I can't."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Someone has to keep them because …" She couldn't say it, so she avoided it all together. "We'll talk later, if that's okay."

"It's not okay, but I do need sleep."

He closed his eyes, and she panicked thinking he was dead until she recalled all the research she'd done on vampires. They're dead. They'd sleep as if dead.

Later that evening Lydia sat on the couch flipping through pictures in a photo album. They were captivatingly beautiful, again more landscapes and nature scenes taken during the day. All of her attention was on the pictures.

"My home, Sweden," came a voice from the chair across from her.

She was startled by the sudden voice in the room and jumped, her knees knocking the book to the floor. When she saw Eric she put her hand on her heart. "Eric, I understand you vampires are extremely fast, but could you please stop sneaking up on me?" She grimaced at the bottle of TruBlood in her hand, amazed he could drink something so … sickening.

"I will try." She picked the book up and set it beside her. "Have you eaten?" he asked her.

"Yes, I have; the cereal and roast beef sandwich and chips you had. Thanks." He nodded. "Has it changed much, Sweden?"

"The land, no. The people, yes." He didn't elaborate again, and it aggravated her.

"Why do you give me such short answers?"

"Because I answer your questions." She sighed. "Earlier, what you said about me keeping the pictures, what did you mean?"

The moment she had tried to avoid was upon her. She had the whole account in her head, going over and over it as she drove the hundreds of miles, but at the moment it all seemed to vanish.

"Because I'm dying, and …" She looked away, clutching her bent knees with her hands.

"All humans die."

"True, but not all die of breast cancer."

He leaned forward. "I can fix that," he said, as matter of fact as if he were talking about giving her aspirin.

"Yeah, that's what Christian said."

"Christian Bellowes, your boyfriend."

She shot her head up and looked at him angrily. "I am _not_ going to sit here and waste my time if you already know everything and you just want to hear me go over the worst period of my life—"

"Relax, Lydia." He leaned back. "I know he died the true death. The how and why I do not. Explain."

She took a deep breath, gathered her thoughts and began to describe her horror.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ever since the vampires came out, I've been curious about … wondered what they were like … sexually." Eric grinned. "Last October I was at the local park kicking it with my friends—"

"Kicking it? What does that phrase mean?"

"Drinking, getting high. Around two the party broke up, and since I lived only a few blocks away I walked home, stoned off my ass. I came across Christian – more like he came across me a block from my building. As we walked he told me he was a vampire. He was charming and funny and hot … sparks flew, one thing led to another and …" She didn't have to go into details since she saw his left eyebrow rise, very intrigued.

"As it turned out, he wasn't quite the charmer he professed to be. By Christmas I was his punching bag, leaving bruises, small cuts. Afterwards he'd …" She looked away, ashamed. "He'd rape me, heal my wounds, and to him nothing ever happened. But not for me. I would only count the days down until it happened again."

"Why did you stay with him?"

"I was scared of him, and his maker."

"The king."

She nodded. "His intention, the king's, was to have Christian change me." She hesitated a bit too long.

"And why would that be?"

"Because of your damned charity." She sighed, got up and went to the kitchen, standing by the wine refrigerator. "For a vampire that only drinks blood, I find it funny you'd have wine."

"That's for my … special human friends." She turned, giving him a sharp look. "Help yourself."

"More like your human dinners," she said under her breath as she took out a bottle, not even bothering to look at the label.

"How perceptive of you."

"Yep, that's me," she said sarcastically. "I'm so damned observant I didn't see what kind of psychotic killers—"

Eric slowly approached her, as he had promised. "Let me get that for you." He took the bottle from her hands, the sides of their hands briefly touched. He didn't say anything about her shaking hand, much to her relief. He uncorked the bottle, poured a glass and handed it to her. She downed it in one swallow then put it out to him for more. "Do you need something stronger?" he asked grinning.

"Oh, god yes!"

He laughed impishly then pulled a bottle out from a cabinet. "It's brannvin," he said as he grabbed another glass then poured a small shot into it. "I would sip it if I were you."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I can handle it. Brannvin, never heard of it." She smelled the clear liquid, which had a strong herbal scent. "What's Swedish for bottoms up?"

"Bottnar upp."

"That's easy enough," she said as she raised the glass. "Bottnar upp!" She emptied the glass in one swallow, immediately started to choke and fisted her chest. It took her a moment to catch her breath from the intense burn. Giving him a death glare, she asked, her throat hoarse, "And what does brannvin mean, exactly?"

"Burn wine."

She shook her head. "I wished you explained that before you made me drink it." She coyly put the glass out for more.

He narrowed his eyes at her while he poured. "I made you do no such thing."

Emptying the second glass, she put it on the counter and went back to the couch. By the time she sat down, Eric was sitting in the chair across from her. Grinning, she said, "Old habits die hard, I guess."

He frowned, confused. "Your drinking?"

"No. You being so fast. Better, though. Thanks."

"Now, what about my damned charity, as you put it?"

"Oh, you know," she replied. "The three million you left for me and mom after dad died. I got it all when I turned 28 last June. Turned out the king wanted it, and what the king wants, he gets."

Leaning forward, he said, "One thing about us vampires, Lydia, is that if there is something we want, we take it. He didn't need _you_ to get it."

"Ah, but Christian … I was his prize, his reward, for bringing in all that money." The tone of her voice changed bitterly.

Before she realized he was gone, Eric was sitting on the coffee table, the bottle by his side, handing her a glass filled a third with more brannvin. "Drink."

She did so without choking. "The king planned on us marrying, my money would be Christian's, in effect the king's. I would be changed to vampire, and he would continue to beat me and screw other women. Hell, I'd heal on my own, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I was diagnosed with cancer in March and never told Christian. I figured I had nothing to lose by killing him. I was dead anyway, right?" She put the glass out and she took another swig. "Hmm, this tastes better and better. Either that or my taste buds are being burned off."

Eric looked her over. "Christian trusted you enough while he slept, and you staked him." She looked at him perplexed. "It's obvious, is it not?" She nodded. He scooted closer to her until their knees met. "Lydia, I do not understand something. After you killed Christian you did not give yourself to the king to ratify revenge by killing you, yet you will die of this cancer. If you won't accept my blood to rid you of this cancer, why are you here?"

She sighed. "Ha. Who's the perceptive one now?" she retorted, though Eric was not amused by her sarcasm. "After I staked him I stared down at his … gooeyness …" She giggled. "… smiling. I was happy, relieved. I was free, Eric. Only then did I know I don't want to die."

He considered all that she'd told him. "You will take my blood to heal you?"

"Don't you get it?!" she said, though her words slurred. She sat up a little too fast. Her upper body kept going forward until she was stopped as her hands landed on his chest, her eyes wide in shock locked onto his chin. She giggled again. "Your chin is soooo sexy."

He grinned. "You are officially … cut off." Then he looked deeply into her eyes, though didn't glamour her. "What do you want from me, Lydia?"

"You know what I want, Eric." She looked away.

"I want to hear it from you."

"If you simply heal me, I'm still dead."

"Say it."

"Even if I run from the king for the rest of my life I'll be dead eventually."

He got a hold of her chin by his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look at him again. "Say it," he repeated, his voice stern.

"Teach me all you know, how to survive on my own. At least I'd have a fighting chance."

"Say. It."

Taking a deep breath, she said, "I want you to make me a vampire."


	6. Chapter 6

Eric noticed Lydia's eyes had filled with tears, though they hadn't fallen. "Now, was that so hard to say?"

She closed her eyes, forcing a tear down her cheek. "Yeah, it was."

He whispered, "You have your mother's eyes, yet you resemble your grandmother greatly."

She pushed herself back, though their knees were still touching. "Which one?"

"Rose, James' wife."

"Oh, Rose is my middle name. That's pretty sweet."

He smiled, though it seemed odd to her. "She was … hard as nails, that woman. But she was one of the most gentile women I have ever met. You remind me of her in so many ways."

"How so?"

"When I first met you at my bar you were, as you humans say, all tough girl, 'no one can touch me.' It's nice to finally see the real you."

"Doesn't mean I wasn't scared shitless."

"And you are not scared now?"

She sighed. "Very."

"Would you like another drink, in that case?"

She laughed. "Uh, no."

"Why?"

"Because I'm already buzzing pretty good."

He shook his head. "No. Do you not feel safe with me?"

Growing serious, she replied, "Yes, actually. I came here expecting to find Magnus, not … you. When I saw you for the first time, I mean really _looked_ at you after you promised not to glamour me, I was … taken with you. But you … You turn out to be the legendary Caldwell savior, Magnus, the same man that slept with my mother."

"Lydia," he said, his voice soft and melodic. "I can change you without having sex with you."

"That's the problem. I … You are so … I'm curious."

He smiled. "_You_ are drunk."

"Yes, but that's not the issue." She burst out laughing, more in relief that she let it out than from being drunk.

Eric smiled. "You need some fresh air."

She gasped, suddenly growing sober. "Will I be safe … out there?"

"With me you will be, for a short while." She pondered what exactly that last comment meant.

A few minutes later, Eric and Lydia were sitting on a blanket high on the mountain range of Black Mountain, looking over the mid-summer landscape. Being it was so cold in his lair, the warm June air was enough to sober her up just a bit.

"I forgot about the super moon tonight. It's beautiful. It's so close it's like you can almost touch it." Then she burst out laughing. "Hey, Eric? Think you can fly as high as the moon?"

He shook his head, stretched his legs out and braced himself with his arms behind him. "You, human, are _not_ funny, amusing, but not funny."

"Have you even tried?"

"Yes, I have."

"Really?"

"No."

"I had to ask." The longer she looked up at the moon the heavier her head got, so she lay down, her arms behind her head. "Hmmph, bad idea," she groaned.

Glancing down on her, he said, his voice sultry, "My dear Lydia, I can promise you that being with me will most certainly _not_ be a bad idea."

"My dear savior, I was referring to those drinks." Turning her head to look at him, she asked, "You will change me?"

"Yes, if you would like me to."

"But if you just heal me of the cancer, can you protect me from the king?"

"That would be more complicated. Vampire politics are … much different than you humans. A vampire kills one of their own then the killer has the choice of the true death, or to increase our population, to change a human to vampire. A human kills a vampire, the human dies, period."

She looked skyward, thinking about what he'd said. "Then I'm screwed."

"Yes, if you would like me to," he said seductively.

Her head jerked back up at to him, scanning every inch of his face until making direct eye contact with him. "What's it like having sex with a human?"

"As a human, I cannot recall. As a vampire, intense," he replied, touching her forehead, pushing her bangs back, trailing the tip of his finger down the side of her face until fingers grabbed the roots of her hair.

Lydia's heart stopped briefly at his aggressiveness.

He leaned down slowly then brushed her nose with his before his lips moved to her ear. He whispered, "Erotic watching the expressions on the human's face as I'm touching her."

Her heart started to pound frantically.

"Warm being inside her …" His bottom lip scraped over the carotid artery in her neck. "… An urgent, deep-seeded craving of desire listening to the blood rush through her veins."

She sighed loudly and pushed her head away from him, but she was mesmerized by his exposed fangs. "Don't … change me yet, Eric. I … I'm not ready."

"I have no intention of changing you now." His voice was primal and rife with lust.

"And what, exactly, are your—" she started to say.

In one instantaneous movement Eric was sitting on the blanket, his legs bent and Lydia straddling his waist. She was so bewildered she didn't have time to react; her arms dangled beside her, her eyes wide. When she gathered her senses, her eyes were drawn to his fangs. Tentatively she reached her hand up with her forefinger out then looked into his eyes. "May … I?"

He nodded. Slowly she brought her finger to his fang but then used her thumb to run the pad over it. It was smooth, just like it looked to her. He closed his eyes briefly before he suddenly grabbed her face firmly in his hands. "Do you feel my excitement?" he growled. His erection was pressed hard against her crotch through the tight constraint of his jeans, crying to be free.

"Do you feel mine?" She moved her hands to his neck and pushed forward so her hardened nipples were pressed against his chest. Sliding her hips up and down, she sighed softly at the friction.

Pushing her back, his hands slid down her shoulders to her forearms, caressing her hot skin before tugging at the hem of the sweater. Keeping eye contact with her, he slowly lifted it up, forcing her to raise her arms above her head as he removed it, throwing it carelessly to the grass.

Grinning wickedly, he traced his pinky fingernail from her collarbone to her breastbone, letting the back of his hand brush against her ample breasts protruding from the confinement of the bra. The flatness of his palms meshed with her flesh, causing her to exhale sharply, goose bumps erupting over her skin. "Your hands … are cold."

"Yes, but my heart is not." His words touched her to the core.

Before she realized it, he had unhooked her bra and threw it, though harder than he meant to. "Hey! That's my good bra!" she screamed as it disappeared behind the tops of the trees.

"Fuck the bra," he retorted.

Pushing back, he threw her down on her back then slid his body down hers, kissing with his lips and touching with his fingers. In one fluid movement he tore her sweatpants off of her, leaving her fully exposed and all his.

Standing up, he took off the t-shirt and stared down on her a moment, loving the look in her eyes and her smile as she regarded his tight, muscled chest. He took off his jeans a bit more quickly before getting on his knees at her feet. Again kissing his way up her body, his hands trailed over her stomach before grasping her breasts, squeezing vigorously, pinching her nipples.

Her breathing grew shallow as his lips brushed against her femoral artery. The sharpness of his fangs gouged deeply into her flesh, though didn't pierce the skin. Anticipating what was coming, she gasped and threw her head back, her hand clutching the hair on the back of his head. She groaned, waiting impatiently.

"Eager, I see," Eric commented, his voice almost a snicker, but no less seductive.

Without lifting her head, she croaked breathlessly, "Very. Take … me."

Lydia then found herself with her legs wrapped around Eric's waist, the heels of her feet on his ass. His cock met her pussy, though he hadn't entered her. Peering down on her, he retorted, "And _very_ impatient."

"Please," she pleaded. "I need to feel—" He suddenly entered her which instantly silenced her in a muted moan.

Laying his body onto hers, his head just above hers, he whispered, almost in a purr, "Hmm, you are sooo … tight."

She tilted her head up until their lips crashed together into a hard, passionate kiss. Slanting her hips up until he got the hint, he thrust his cock deeper inside her. Whimpering, he increased his momentum until sweat built up on her forehead and cheeks, taking each plunge he gave her.

Her orgasm had begun as soon as he entered her, and with each pounding lunge it grew and grew until her body was assaulted with an intense numbness. "Hmmph. Fuuu … Don't … stop."

"Who. Said. I. Was," he replied, each word mumbled as he pushed deeper inside.

Her body tensed and she closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable. "No. Look at me." Opening her eyes, she saw him looking down on her, totally absorbed in the expression of hunger on her face.

He pounded inside her a few more times before she threw her head back again, whimpering and crying before a primal scream of release escaped her lips as her orgasm exploded.

"Don't push me out," he moaned into her ear.

Fighting to keep him inside, his words did nothing but make another stronger orgasm coarse through her. Her juices flowed out of her, engulfing the base of his cock.

"Oh, ohhh, shhhh," she groaned. She could barely catch her breath from her powerful release. He picked her up, only he sat down with her straddling him again, his cock still inside of her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sighed, "Er'c, oh, god. I never …"

He didn't reply, though he heard her words. Pushing her upper torso back so that she had to look at him, he asked, "And now, do you know what I want?"


	7. Chapter 7

Lydia knew exactly what Eric wanted. Still breathing heavily, her heart pounding, she tilted her head as she brushed the hair away from her neck, leaving her carotid artery exposed. Closing her eyes, she waited to feel the painful invasion of her flesh. But several moments went by, and yet she felt nothing. Opening her eyes slowly, she looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?"

"You are shaking," he commented perplexed.

"That's because of those orgasms you gave me," she snickered, putting her hands on his chest. Being surprised with his lack of a heartbeat, she laughed.

"You are _laughing_ at me?" He suddenly grew stern, though his voice was not.

"No, no. I was just thinking. I forgot vampires don't … have a heart."

"We do not, though we _do_ feel. Tell me, why are you shaking?"

Lydia picked up on the hurt in his voice. "I'm sorry, Eric. When I was with Christian, he would …" Although he had a firm grip of her with his arms around her waist, he let her go when she pushed back, slipped off of him and sat at his feet. She clutched her knees close to her chest, looking down at the grass, her back to him.

"Whenever he and I would have sex, if that's what you want to call it, when he'd take my blood it wasn't … my choice. I never _gave _him my blood. It was _taken_ from me. It hurt, always, and he never healed me with his blood."

"Did he rape you?" he asked compassionately. She nodded. "Then I am glad he is dead."

Her body shook with his words and couldn't hold back the tears. "I … I've never admitted that to anyone before."

His cold hand spread from the small of her back to her shoulder blades reassuringly, making her sigh. Putting his long, protective arms around her, she melted back into him, her head against his collarbone, tears trickling down her face.

A few minutes passed before she calmed down, though still sniffled. "I can take the memory of him away from you," Eric suggested softly.

"No. When you change me I won't know who I'm running from or …"

"Understood."

A few more minutes went by before her tears stopped completely. "Eric, drink from me," she barely whispered.

"No."

She threw her upper body back and around to look at him. "Why not?"

"Because I do not wish to subject you to such a harrowing ordeal."

"Oh, no, Eric. You won't. I'd rather you take my blood now so I know what to expect. When you do change me, I don't want fear to be the last feeling to have as a human."

He considered her words thoughtfully before he nodded. "I will not hurt you, Lydia, that I promise."

"I trust you."

He looked longingly into her eyes before gently maneuvering her around so her back was against his chest, her head forward to give him access. After closing her eyes, he placed his forearms on her shoulders; his fingers gingerly tilted her head to the right, keeping a gentle hold of her neck. He brushed the hair from her neck behind her. Bringing his mouth close to her ear, he kissed the earlobe before his lips touched her carotid artery.

She inhaled sharply, her mouth hanging low. Her body shivered lightly, though she was no longer afraid. Licking the area first, she moaned softly. She felt his lips part and both fangs scrape her skin. Holding her breath, she waited for the piercing of her flesh, and didn't have to wait long.

As the sharp fangs dug into her, she finally exhaled. Feeling the warmth of her blood escape her, dripping down her collarbone, she took long, shallow breaths as he began to draw her blood. Her head fell toward her right shoulder, and it seemed to revive his aggression of drinking from her. He growled from the back of his throat, which reverberated against her back, making her groan loudly.

Losing all sense of what was happening to her, she threw her right arm up and behind her, found the back of his head and ran her fingers through his hair. Dizziness overcame her, though she didn't want him to stop, but he had other plans.

Removing his fangs, she grunted at the loss of such an intimate act. He licked the puncture wound, which she found very erotic though was too drowsy to allow her body to experience the pleasure of the orgasm she felt coming on. She opened her eyes, and from her peripheral vision, saw him pierce the pad of his thumb then massaging it into the wound, knowing it would instantly heal.

Her head fell back onto his collarbone, her breathing slower. Staring up at the moon, still bright and low in the sky, there were so many emotions running through her she didn't comprehend them all. So she just allowed herself to rest in the arms of her protector.

Several minutes later, breaking the tranquility of the moment, Eric said quietly said, "It is time for you to feed."

Her body too numb to react, she replied, "I've never had vampire blood."

"No, dear one. The nasty food you humans eat."

She chuckled quietly, though with the depleted blood she was no longer drunk. "And that plasma in those bottles is any better?"

"You shall have to get accustomed to that plasma."

Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. She pulled away and turned to face him, kneeling between his shins. "Oh, my god. It's really going to happen, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. And you will have a sister, two, actually."

She smiled broadly. "I've always wanted a sister."

"You have met one already, since you've been in Shreveport." His eyes trailed down her chest, and she wasn't sure if she liked the look in his eyes.

"What? When? The only place I've been is … wait. No! Not … Pam, was that her name?" she gasped.

He laughed. "I am afraid so."

"Can I change my mind?" she said seriously, but wore a grin.

"Yes, but you won't."

She sat back. "No, I won't." A sudden cool breeze chilled her, and she wrapped her arms around her, shivering.

Eric grinned mischievously, his eyes narrowed at her. "I was admiring that view."

Smiling, suddenly shy, she said, "Sorry, it's getting chilly. Can we go—"

Before she could finish the sentence, he had picked her up, held her in his arms, grabbed the blanket and swiftly carried her off into the night, back to his lair … the one place she was truly safe.

But not for long.


	8. Chapter 8

Lydia made herself another sandwich, put chips on the plate and grabbed a soda. "Eric, do you want a True Blood?" she asked from the kitchenette.

"No, I'm quite full, thank you," he replied from the chair in the living area.

She almost lost her appetite when it dawned on her he was referring to her blood he drank. Sitting down on the couch, she asked, "Do I get a last meal before you change me?"

"If you would like."

"You know, I was being a smart ass when I asked for the steak last night."

"I was fully aware of that."

She frowned then her head jerked back. "Then why did you—"

"To see the expression on your face when I brought it to you."

She smiled. "Well, mission accomplished." Taking a few bites of the sandwich, only then did she realize she was no longer drunk. "The alcohol … do you get drunk when you drink a human's blood that's been drinking?"

"No." She waited for more explanation. Again she didn't get one.

When she finished eating, she pulled the blanket down off the back of the couch, wrapped it around her, and sat back, giving a big yawn.

Eric never took his eyes off of her. "I overlook the fact you humans are affected by the climate. Shall I have Pam bring you warm clothes tomorrow?"

"I won't need them if you change me tomorrow night, right?"

He nodded. "If that is your wish."

"I really hate it when you talk in circles."

"That might be the case, yet you keep up with me."

She looked at him confused, but was beginning to get sleepy so she let it go. "What am I supposed to do after … I'm changed?"

"That will be up to you."

"If Pam works at your club, do I have to, too? I'd make a sucky waitress."

He gave her a half smile. "Pam chooses to work there. Just because I am her maker, I do not force her."

"Oh." Again she yawned.

"I must leave you to attend my bar. You will be safe here."

"Wha'? No! You can't—"

He stood up and sat beside her. "You seem to forget I have made a vow to your family, as well as to you. If I say you will be safe, then you will be safe."

She sighed and rested her head on the back cushion. "Okay." She thought a moment. "Eric, can you do something for me? I'm really tired of those sandwiches. Think you can bring me back a roast chicken, macaroni salad and … a cherry pie?"

He grinned then shook his head. "Is that your last meal?"

"No. That's for lunch." He laughed. "It's nice to hear you laugh. You don't strike me as the type of person that does."

He hesitated. "I do not have much to laugh about."

She smiled. "Except at me."

He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Except at you. I will return before sunrise. I will see you tomorrow night."

"Thank you, Eric."

"You are welcome."

She lay on the couch since she was too exhausted to get up and go to bed. Tomorrow she would brave a bath in the rock-tub. Tomorrow … that last day of her humanity.

When she woke up the next morning she felt great, completely rested. Looking at her cell phone she wasn't surprised to see that it was almost ten; that was her normal wake-up time at home on the weekends … a home she would never be able to return to.

Slipping out of bed, she watched Eric sleep. A million thoughts went through her head, questions she wanted, needed to ask him what her vampire life would be like – where she would go, what she would do, how would she eat?

"Stop staring at me, human. You will give me a complex." He opened his eyes and looked at her sleepily.

"You al_ready_ have a complex, Eric."

"True. What will you do today?"

"Oh, you know. Human stuff – take a bath, eat human food, go for a hike in the woods in the sunlight."

He sat up briskly, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. "That you will _not_ do. Do you understand me?!"

He frightened her for the first time since she'd met him. She shook her head. "No, Eric. I wasn't. I was just—"

"Good," he replied before he lay back down. "Ha' a good daaa …"

Kissing him on his cheek, she left to go to the bathroom and to take a bath. Still being half asleep, she finished her business and was on her way out when she noticed a dress hanging over the towel shelves. The small cavern's room was lit softly by a small torch; it was enough to see the details of the dress.

It was white cotton and full-length, reminding her of a 1800s style dress, but what did she know of fashion? There were narrow paisley-shaped, sheer patterns throughout the entire length, and it appeared to be old, yet the material and sewing of the dress was professionally done, giving it an almost new look. The bodice was straight along the breasts, but not too low to show too much cleavage; the sleeves were just above the ends of the shoulders with small, ballooned, sheer fabric; and the body of it had a belt high up on the waist. The skirt was loose and to the floor, and at the very bottom it was again paisley-shaped with wider patterns the same as what was on the top.

"It was your grandmother's dress. Blanche wore it when she and Elijah married in 1889," Eric said as he leaned against the rock of the opening.

"Her wedding dress?" she asked astonished.

He nodded. "She gave it to me before she died in 1923, wanting me to give it to her first-born granddaughter on her wedding day."

"Oh, then that would be me," she whispered, completely and utterly taken aback. "I … wait, we aren't … You and I aren't …"

Smiling, he replied, "No. But I would like you to wear it tonight."

"Tonight? Why … When you change me."

"Yes."

"No, no! You'll get blood all over it!"

"You will not wear it while I change you."

She suddenly noticed how tired his eyes were, and didn't want to keep him up. Approaching him, she put her arms around his waist, hugging him as tightly as she could. After giving him a long, fevered kiss, she pulled back. "Eric, you have no idea how much that dress means to me."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. Please, go back to bed."

He looked at her extremely irritated. "I do _not_ need you to tell me what to do." Yet he slowly grinned then kissed her on her forehead. "I'm going to bed because I need sleep."

By four that afternoon, Lydia was bored out of her mind. Being so desperate to get out from the dreary darkness of her cavernous jail cell, she pondered how she would ever live the life of a vampire. But then again, Eric Northman had managed for a thousand years, why couldn't she?

So she set her wheels of mischief turning, quickly coming up with a plan. It wouldn't hurt to go outside for five minutes, just outside the door to revel in the warmth of the sun, taking in the sounds of the birds and smell of the summer air. The night before when Eric had taken her outside she made sure to watch where the triggers were to open the main doorway, both from the inside and the outside.

At first she thought about watching him sleep again, just to make sure he was really asleep … or dead asleep. Not being able to get away with watching Eric sleep earlier, she knew for sure he would wake up. So she grabbed a book, lay on her bed and pretended to read. What she was really doing was keeping an eye on him, making sure he never stirred. She had to stifle a giggle when she wondered if dead vampires every really do stir in their sleep.

Half an hour later, only when she was convinced he wouldn't awaken, she quietly slipped on her tennis shoes and as noiselessly as she could tiptoed to the main entrance. Pressing the lever covered with moss at the base of the rock, it slid open. Her heart immediately sunk when it made a deep, rumbling noise, ending with a soft, though audible thud as it rested in its final fissure. Sunlight poured into the corridor, bathing her in a rejuvenating warmth.

Holding her breath, the seconds ticked by and ticked by. No Eric pulling her back inside, and although he'd be burned, she knew he would quickly heal. There was no Eric hollering her name to return if he wouldn't heal as quickly as she thought.

Cautiously she stepped outside, looking around just as a gopher establishes an all-clear leaving its den. Though she was leery at first, she was confident that she would be safe. She pressed the lever to close it, to keep it safe, to keep Eric safe.

Then she was overcome with guilt for what she was doing. Eric had done nothing but provided for her and protected her, and she was betraying his kindness. But that day would be the last day of her human life, and she wanted as much sun as she could get.

So she sauntered out farther from the rock, walking beside a flat boulder that was drenched in sunlight, and she had planned on lying on that for only a few minutes. But then she noticed a narrow pathway that led down and around, and her curiosity got the better of her. Taking her time, she walked into nature's heaven.

Ten minutes later, being so taken with her surroundings, she hadn't noticed she was off the path she'd started on. She looked around in a panic, trying to find any trace of it. There was none. The only thing she could do was to retrace her tracks. Only a minute later she came upon a clearing, and again her heart sank. She was hopelessly lost.

Back in Eric's lair, he bolted up in bed and screamed, "Lydia!"

She stood still for a moment, trying to figure out what to do, when suddenly someone grabbed her from behind, a long, strong arm tight around her neck. At first she was confused how Eric could be out in the sunlight for so long, but when the grip tightened, she knew it wasn't him. She threw her hands up to the forearm of her assailant and tried to pull them it of her, to no avail.

"Hello, Lydia Caldwell," said a male voice gruffly in her ear.

Another man stepped in front of her, and her heart not only sank, it died. It was Roger York, and she despised the man. Grinning wickedly, he barked, "Did you _honestly_ think you could hide from your king, Jacob Gooding?"

As tight as his hold was of her, she was able to croak, "Gooding is _not_ my fucking king!" She began to kick her legs, twisting her body to get the person off of her, but he bent over slightly, put his arm around her waist and held her firmly.

"Oh, but he will be," Roger threatened as he approached her, digging his hand in his back pocket. "And he will also be your Maker." She gasped at seeing the syringe in his hand. He removed the sheath and stepped closer to her. "You are an idiot." He lifted the sleeve of her sweater to expose her forearm. "And you will pay for your stupidity. That comes from the king himself."

"Eric will find me! And he will fucking _kill _you!" she spat, trying to sound as vicious as she could; it came out as a weak gurgle.

"That's highly doubtful, being that he's already dead. He's met the true death," Roger said. He stabbed her forearm with the needle, pressing the syringe down as the liquid invaded her bloodstream.

Her mind reeled at the thought of the one man, the one vampire, that could have saved her life, and he was dead. She didn't believe it. She didn't _want _to believe it. Her thoughts clouded over as she grew weak in the knees, collapsing onto the grass on her back, her head beginning to spin wildly.

"Kill me," she pleaded feebly.

Roger bent over her sneering. "I won't do that. I want my reward for finding you and bringing you to the king. But rest assured _he _will kill you."

"Eric," she moaned softly, barely audible. "Eri' …"


	9. Chapter 9

_Shortly after nightfall …_

"What did you do with the body?" asked a voice.

"Burned it in the woods with the rest of the trash," another man replied.

"Very well."

Lydia's heart pounded as she heard the words and recognized the voice. It was the king, Jacob Gooding. She wanted to scream for Eric then her memories flooded back to her to when she heard Roger York say Eric was dead. A body had been burned, Eric's body. All that she'd fought for and searched for was gone.

Needing to hear more, she stayed as still as she could. She realized she was bound on a bed, more than likely in the king's manor, arms and legs spread apart. Something was tight around her wrists and ankles, and from the coldness she assumed they were handcuffs. She got a sudden chill from the fact she was naked and couldn't hold back a shiver.

"Ah, I see she's back with us." The bed sunk as Jacob sat beside her, and she turned her head away from him. "My dear sweet Lydia," he cooed, though her eyes remained shut. "You were like my own daughter, I guess you could say. Hell, you were almost my daughter-in-law. But you killed my child, my _oldest_ child … for what? Why?" His voice then turned angry. "Because he beat you sometimes, which I'm sure you deserved." His chuckle shook the bed. Because he raped you? You humans are _nothing_ to us. We can do whatever we want with you. We can take whatever we want."

"You will _not_ take my soul."

Lydia was more than startled when Jacob roughly grabbed her face by her chin, his fingers pressing hard into her cheekbones. She winced in pain and was forced to open her eyes, and even though she tried to avoid his eyes, he squeezed harder until she did.

"I will say it again. I will take anything, including your soul, if I so choose to."

Having the only defense in her favor, she spit in his face, hitting him right on the side of his nose. Calmly, he wiped it away with the back of his sleeve. He grinned, shook his head and suddenly slapped her face hard. She grunted in pain as her head was jerked to the side. "Fuck you," she moaned, trying everything in her power not to cry.

"Have at her," Jacob said then he walked out of the room.

Without warning, multiple knives pierced her skin on both wrists and her femoral artery. She screamed at the top of her lungs as the pain surged through her entire body, though she didn't cry for long. She instantly grew weak, her head spun and thankfully for her she passed out.

Several minutes later, downstairs of the king's manor, Eric Northman approached the front door calmly, as he always is. The two security guards standing on either sides of the door were vampires, not that it would have stopped Eric from killing them. What did stop Eric was the fact that Bill Compton, back to his old, selfish, bastardly self, asked to see the king.

"Who are you two?"

"I am Bill Compton, and this is Eric Northman."

"Well, that's good to know," one guard said flippantly but didn't allow them entry.

"See, Bill," Eric huffed. "I told you they wouldn't let us in."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Bill asked nonchalantly as he switched hands carrying the thick, heavy briefcase.

"I guess we'll just leave this lovely state of North Carolina."

"But I like it here," Bill objected.

"I don't care whether you do or not," Eric replied as he turned and walked down the stairs.

"I apologize for your trouble," Bill said to the guards and met Eric at the foot of the steps.

"What the hell did you apologize for, you moron," Eric chastised Bill in a loud voice, loud enough for the guards to hear.

"I apologized because," Bill replied, raced up the stairs, hit one guard with the briefcase so hard that his head sheared off and rolled down the front porch. Turning to Eric, who had beheaded the other guard, he finished. "I feel really bad for killing these two. Is Lydia still hurt?"

"Yes," Eric replied, trying to hide the fear in his face, "They fed from her."

"Go to her. I will seek out the king."

Eric nodded, kicked in the front door with one swift movement, killed three guards that had come into to the foyer to investigate the commotion, and rushed upstairs. That was where he felt Lydia's pain the strongest, or had, anyway. With the blood he had taken from her earlier that morning he could only hope they had not drained her completely.

Racing down the hallway, he killed another guard effortlessly before entering the room he knew Lydia was in. And she was, but she was in bad shape. She was lying on the bed unconscious and handcuffed, blood pooled around her wrists and between her legs. Just from her profile he could see she was incredibly pale, and her mouth hung open as if she died in a scream.

"Fuck," Eric finally moaned. After ripping off the restraints, growling as the silver burned his hand he pricked his thumb with his fang until it bled then spread it over the puncture wounds. Covering her with a blanket first, he sat down beside her and gently tilted her head to face him, grimacing when he saw more clearly the bruise on her right cheek. "Lydia."

Biting into his wrist, he brought it to her mouth. A few drops fell, and as they did only then did she make any noise to indicate she was still alive. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. "I'm here. You need my blood."

She moaned before licking his wrist then pressed her lips against his skin and began to suck, weakly at first. It was enough to bring her around, and she slowly opened her eyes. Being startled at his expression, she frowned, not able to understand the look of pure ecstasy on his face. Attacking his wrist again, she grunted, closing her eyes.

"Easy," he whispered as he took his hand away from her lips a moment later. "How are you feeling now?"

"Bet'er," she mumbled. "You're okay."

He brushed her soaked hair away from the side of her face. "Of course. Your color is back. You should be okay now."

She sat up on her own without the inevitable pain she was expecting. "Eric, I … Your blood … I feel normal."

"Normal, for now. You defied me, and I am not very happy with you." She looked at him ashamed, knowing he was right. Bill said his name from downstairs, though only Eric heard it. "Come. We must go to the king."

Terror set in as Lydia thought of what he had almost done to her. Changing back into the clothes she was kidnapped in, they headed downstairs; she cowered behind Eric. That was until she saw Roger standing by his desk, looking into a thick briefcase. "You mother _fuck_er," she spat as she sprinted to him and kicked him hard in his crotch, not knowing whether or not it would even hurt him.

"You bitch!" the king screamed as he bent over, his face grimacing in severe pain.

Neither Eric nor Bill saw it coming, and only then did Eric pull her away. "Lydia, go sit down," he said calmly.

"I will not! He tried to kill me!"

He scowled down on her. "Don't push me, human." His tone told her he was no longer taking any of her disobedience. She sat down in a huff.

"Your majesty," Bill spoke once Jacob controlled himself. "As you agreed, you will no longer associate yourself with Ms. Caldwell. We are well aware of your past … indiscretions. If you do attempt any harm whatsoever to her, we will report your misgivings to the Magister. Do you understand?" He nodded, looking at Lydia. "Very well."

Bill was the first to walk out of the house, with Eric and Lydia behind. "Why didn't you kill him?" she asked astounded.

"No need to," Bill replied.

"Who are you?"

"No time for this now. We must leave," Eric said.

"Explain to me what just happened!" she hollered angrily.

Eric shook his head, grabbed her hard by her waist and held onto her firmly, while Bill took a hold of Eric's shoulders … and they flew off into the sky.


	10. Chapter 10

Eric landed solidly and gracefully in the front yard of Bill's homestead, regardless of the load he carried. Bill stepped back a few feet; Lydia collapsed on her ass and stared up at the two vampires. She wasn't physically exhausted but more than taken aback at the flight she had just taken from the East in three minutes flat.

"Lydia, have you eaten?" Bill asked, staring down at her with genuine concern, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"No," she muttered. "What just happened?"

Both vampires grinned, highly amused. Eric bent over and extended his hand. Reluctantly she took it, getting on her feet. "Bill will get you something to eat." Bill then shot Eric a look she couldn't ascertain.

"Look, guys. I have just had the night from hell—"

"Which was your own fault," Eric interjected.

"What?! Are you _kidding_ me?"

"Bill?" A vampire rushed outside and stood beside him as she looked over Lydia. "Hi. I'm Jessica."

"Jess, can you start the running water in the tub, please, then go to the grocers for … Lydia, what would you like?"

She crossed her arms. "I want answers."

Eric shook his head at her stubbornness. "If you eat, you will get answers."

"How about I get the answers then I eat?" she proposed.

"How about you listen to me for a change?" Eric replied.

She narrowed her eyes at him, not used to not getting what she wanted. Turning to Jessica, she answered, "Fried chicken and potato salad."

Bill handed Jess some money before she ran back inside the house. He said, "Lydia, come inside, please. I'm sure you would like to get cleaned up." As polite and thoughtful as he was, Lydia didn't trust him, yet she couldn't put her fingers on it.

Before she could object again, Eric gently led her up the stairs and into the foyer, where they followed Bill upstairs to the main bathroom. "There are towels in the closet. I think you and Jess wear the same size. I'll get something you can change into."

After he walked out, Lydia stood there in shock. Bill returned with clothes and closed the door behind him. Not saying a word, she removed her torn, dirty clothes and threw them on the floor. Eric did the same then got in the tub, stretched out his legs and put his elbows on the sides. "Ms. Caldwell, those goose bumps and perky nipples of yours won't go away on their own. It's much warmer in here."

Her brain was beginning to grow numb as the steam rose in the room, and the events of the past several hours had already gotten to her. Getting in very carefully, she sat between his knees and leaned forward. He dipped his hands in the water and brought them to her back, slowly running them up and down, gently kneading her tight shoulder muscles. She moaned quietly under her breath as his strong fingers melted away the tension.

Pushing her forward, before she even realized what was happening, he took the back of her head and dipped it under the water just enough to get her hair wet. He put shampoo on her head then gently massaged her scalp, evoking another small moan from her. After rinsing her hair, his fingers curled over her shoulders, and he pulled her back to him until she was flush against his chest. She rested her head on his collarbone, completely drained, though her mind was working overtime with all the questions she had. Grabbing the washcloth and soap, he buffed it until it was sudsy, took her right arm and wiped it down gingerly, then did her left arm before every so slowly washing the rest of her.

A few minutes later she was clean and content, lying against him, her eyes closed. "Eric, I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"How did you know where I was?"

"It was obvious."

"Yeah, I guess. Why didn't you change me when you found me?"

"Because I wanted it on my terms."

"Hmm, that's obvious." Her body shook with his chuckle.

"Guys? I've got your food, Lydia," Jessica hollered from behind the closed door.

A few minutes later they joined Bill and Jessica in the living room, Lydia looking around amazed at all the expensive furniture and antiques before she sat down on the couch. Her mouth watered at the tray with a plate of food, and she promptly began to eat.

"Eric, do you need me?" He nodded his head. Turning to Bill, she asked, "Is it okay if Willa and I go clothes shopping?" Bill said yes. "Cool!" She approached Bill, putting out her hand. "Can I have an advance on my allowance?"

"You've already had three, and it's only the 19th," Bill replied.

"Oh, you're no fun," she whined.

"Well," he said as he pulled out his wallet. "If it'll get you out of my hair."

"Oh, goody!" she exclaimed, clapped once, gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and ran out of the room to change.

Bill sat down in the recliner next to the chair Eric was sitting in. "I trust the food is to your liking?" Bill asked.

Lydia nodded, taking a sip of the iced tea. "Thank you." Sitting back, she clutched her knees closely to her chest. "So, does anyone care to tell me what the hell happened?"

Bill grinned then looked at Eric. "You've got your work cut out for you."

Lydia shot a glare at Bill and snapped. "And who are you again?"

"He's the one that helped rescue your ass, and if you don't show him some respect—"

"Bill, I'm sorry. I don't like not knowing what's going on."

"I understand. I am King of Louisiana, and Eric asked me for my assistance."

"I didn't ask, Bill. You owed me," Eric corrected. "I knew when they took you, Lydia, but I could do nothing, it being daylight."

"How did you know?"

"I'd had your blood. We can feel the human's emotions once we've tasted their blood. I felt your fear."

She sighed. "Seems there's a bit more about you vampires that isn't online."

"Christian had your blood, did he not?" Eric asked.

"Yes, but he wasn't quite straightforward with everything about vampires. Why didn't you kill Jacob?"

"Didn't need to," Bill answered. "I knew of his reputation and his past, a great benefit for any rival king. I just kindly reminded him of them."

"What was in the case on his desk?" she asked, stifling a yawn. The two vampires looked at the other, both hesitating to answer. "Oh, don't do this, don't block me out now."

Eric didn't answer, so Bill did. "It was the money he wanted."

Her head jerked back. "What did you say?"

"Lydia," Eric said, "Jacob Gooding is a vicious ruler. He would not accept our … enticement of simply going to the Magister. He wanted more."

"You fucking _bought_ me?!" she exclaimed.

"We saw it as a … business proposition," Bill said.

"Bill," Eric warned firmly.

"Sounds more like I was nothing but a piece of meat." Her voice had turned rife with anger.

Leaning forward, Eric said, "I wanted you back."

Her eyes flew open, and she stood up, running her fingers through her still-wet hair. "You want. Bill wants. Jacob wanted. What about what _I _want?"

"You are alive," Eric pointed out.

"Yes, at the cost of what, three million dollars?!"

"Okay, I'm—" Jessica had just come down the stairs to say goodbye, when at the mention of the money she stopped and stood in the doorway.

"Actually," Bill interrupted, "The money was counterfeit."

Frowning, she said, "Great, just great. And what do you think he'll do when he finds out he was ripped off? I can bet you he won't come after _you_!"

"Lydia, might I remind you I will be changing you so that you will be able to protect yourself, just as _you_ wanted?" Eric answered.

"No," she mumbled.

"No, what?" Eric asked.

She looked him dead in his eyes. "No, you won't change me. I might have disobeyed you, Eric, but you betrayed me. Which is worse?"

She turned to walk out the door but was stopped by Eric. "Might I also remind you that _you _were the one that asked me to change you. It was your decision."

"Right, it was my decision, _my_ choice," she spat, her hands on her hips. "And now I choose to stay human. I'm dead either way." Her voice croaked as she tried to keep back her tears.

"Lydia, listen—" Eric started.

She ignored him as she raced past Jessica and out the door. "Eric, should I get her?" she asked.

"No," Bill said. "Eric, let her go." Eric turned and glared maliciously at him and about to speak when he finished, "She'll be back."

"Oh, I see Lilith's god-like powers are returning?" Eric hissed angrily.

Bill went to Eric. "No, but I have never seen you this taken with a human … since Sookie."

"Fuck," Eric grumbled.

He had to admit that maybe Bill was right, although he hated that fact. All she needed was time, time to sleep and time to think. Maybe she would be back. Maybe, just maybe.


	11. Chapter 11

Sookie Stackhouse closed the door of her car outside her house on the other side of the cemetery. She had just gotten off her shift, it was 1:30 a.m., and she wanted nothing more than to go straight to bed and snuggle with Alcide. But as she approached the landing on her porch she heard a soft crying from the side of the house. Sookie was no stranger to odd-ball people showing up at her place, including two particular vampires. Faintly hearing her thoughts, she sighed, put her purse on the porch and walked around to the side. Between a bush and her house she saw a woman with dark brown hair curled up in a ball and crying softly.

"Who are you?" Sookie asked.

Lydia was so startled she jumped and threw herself flush against the house, looking around like she'd just seen a ghost. "Are you a vampire?" she asked weakly. Sookie shook her head. "Shit."

Sookie glanced at Alcide as he came around the corner. "Sook, I heard you pull up but—Who's she?" he asked when he saw Lydia.

"Don't know, but she's really freaked out."

Alcide got down on one knee several feet away. "I'm Alcide, and this here's Sookie. Can you tell us your name?"

She shook her head violently. "Kill me, kill me," she sobbed.

"No, no. We won't hurt you," Alcide said calmly and soothingly.

"I want … to … die. I can't … do this anymore." Tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen.

Alcide stood back up and whispered to Sookie, "She's human, but I smell vampire on her. Can you hear her?"

Sookie concentrated on her mind. "She's confused, tired and scared. But she doesn't want to die."

"What are you going to do?"

She sighed. "What I always do, Alcide, rescue her." She stepped closer. "Honey, we'll leave you alone. But you're welcome to come inside when you're … ready. Okay?"

'_No, no! Eric … no_,' she screamed to herself, her body shaking violently.

"It figures," Sookie said as she stood next to Alcide.

"What was she thinking?"

"This is Eric's doin'."

"Figures," he sputtered. "We can't leave her out here."

"No, we can't." Sookie sat down beside her about two feet away. "Make a deal with you. I'll sit right here until you can make it inside. I'm not … we're not leaving you, okay?"

'_Just do it … kill me. Get it over with_,' Lydia repeated over and over.

Ten minutes later, tears still rolling down Lydia's face, she was no longer hysterical. Sookie made it close enough to her to put her arm over the stranger's shoulders. "See, it's not so bad now, is it?"

Sniffling and hiccup-crying, every ounce of energy completely drained from her, Lydia was able to hold her head up. Looking around more focused, she checked out Alcide then threw her head on Sookie's shoulder. "Lydia," she said weakly.

"Lydia, did you say? It's nice to meet you," Sookie said reassuringly.

"I … I need to go home," Lydia whispered.

"No, darlin'," Alcide objected. "You're not going anywhere tonight."

"Come on inside with us. You need some sleep," Sookie told her softly.

Alcide helped her to her feet, but her legs buckled underneath her. Swiftly, he picked her up and carried her into the house, laying her on the bed in the spare bedroom. She immediately curled up into a ball and closed her eyes.

Sookie grabbed Alcide's elbow and pulled him into the hallway, closing the door but leaving it cracked. "I've got to see Eric to find out what this is all about."

"No. You are not going nowhere near him," he protested. "Not without me, and someone needs to stay with her."

"Do you want him to come here?" she challenged.

He growled, not liking her answer, but he replied, "You will _not _invite him in."

She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

Again, he growled as they walked downstairs, where Alcide stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Sookie went to the door. Her hand almost on the door, she saw a shadow on the other side. Shaking her head she opened it and stared up at Eric.

"I was just about to come get you," she told him.

He saw the werewolf in the foyer but said nothing. "I know. She's sleeping?" It was more of a statement as opposed to a question.

"Yes. Who is she?" Eric gave her the short, abbreviated version, leaving out the true death of the king, Christian, and pretty much everything else about Lydia's past. Sookie just stared at him. "What are you going to do?"

"She won't let me change her. She must stay here with you until …"

"Good for her," she retorted.

"No," Alcide said firmly.

"This is not your home, wolf," Eric snarled.

"It's not yours either, Eric," Sookie stated. "What am I supposed to do with her?"

"Keep her safe until I wake tonight."

She sighed. "I'll do what I can, but I'll do it for her, not you." He nodded and flew away. Sookie walked to Alcide and told him, "Here we go again."

'_The waves lapped onto the shoreline, seagulls squawked and circled the two bodies intertwined on the beach. The sun was high in the sky, warm and bright as they made love. _

"_Eric," she moaned breathlessly._

"_Lydia, my love," Eric replied._

_A seagull landed beside them, silently watching them; seconds later another seagull landed, and another and another. Lydia turned her head and was met with a dozen heads resembling Christian, glaring at her and scowling with pure hatred. Looking at Eric, it wasn't Eric, but Christian …' _

Lydia bolted straight up in bed, sweat beading on her forehead, the hair on the nape of her neck drenched from the nightmare. She looked around the room in panic and fear, not knowing where she was. The only thing that calmed her, that made her feel somewhat safe, was the soft, faint beam of after-dawn light filling the room.

Slipping out of bed she stepped into the hallway, cautiously, looking for the bathroom. Seeing the top of the stairs she headed that way and found the bathroom. After relieving herself, she splashed cold water on her face to alleviate the dry stinging in her eyes from the crying. Staring at her pathetic reflection in the mirror, she thought of only one solution.

As quietly as she could she headed downstairs to the kitchen and pulled a knife from the block on the counter. She was about to turn around when a man's voice surprised her, though she remained calm. She carefully slid the knife down the waist of her jeans, surprised and relieved she didn't cut herself … yet, anyway. Turning around, she looked at the buff man in a tight t-shirt and sweat pants standing by the refrigerator.

"Good morning, Lydia. I thought I heard you up. Want some juice?"

She shook her head. "I, uh … who are you again?"

"Alcide." He took out the orange juice carton then got two glasses. "How are you feeling?" After pouring, he handed her a glass.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Where am I?"

"Sit," he said, pulling out a chair at the dining table. After she sat, he did as well. "Bon Temps, Sookie Stackhouse's house. You're safe here."

She snickered under her breath as she sipped half the juice. Her brain shut down, and her body grew numb. "I'll never be safe." Standing up, she said, "Thank you for … I've got to go."

"Lydia, we talked with Eric earlier. You _are_ safe here," he reiterated.

Ignoring him, she walked to the foyer, taking the knife out. Reaching for the door knob, Alcide rushed to her side. Seeing the knife in her hand, he backed off a bit, though he didn't feel threatened by her. "Don't do this," he warned, his voice soft.

Abruptly, she stepped back further, brought the sharp side of the knife to her wrist, brought it back and sliced into her skin. Though she aimed for her wrist, she got her forearm. Watching the blood stream down in a thin line, she slid down the wall onto her butt and brought the knife back up for another strike. Alcide grabbed the knife and threw it into the kitchen.

"You don't want to do this," he said as he got down on one knee, reaching for her arm. She jerked it away, not bothering to cover the seeping wound.

"I don't know _what_ to do!" she whined, beginning to cry. "God, I'm so fucking tired of crying!" she exclaimed.

"Lydia, I've got to stop the bleeding."

"Wha'?" She looked down at her forearm in shock. There was something metal poking out of her skin, and she dug it out. "What the hell is this?" she asked, showing it to him.

He took it from her and looked at it more closely. "It looks like it might be a tracking device."

"A what? That's how they found me," she muttered. "Then … that means they know where I am."

Alcide stood, threw it on the floor and stomped on it, glass and plastic grinding softly.

"No, no," she said as she stood up. "You don't get it. You two are in danger, too … and Eric …" She looked towards the door, like she had to stop herself from running out to go to him. It was impossible for her to find where his lair was.

"What's all the …" Sookie started as she came down the stairs. "What's going on?"

"She's cut herself. Can you get some towels, please?" Alcide asked.

A few minutes later, the three were in the kitchen, Sookie had tied a clean hand towel around her forearm to stop the bleeding. "I have to leave."

"And where will you go?" Alcide asked.

"I don't know, but the king will find me."

"The king? Bill?" Sookie asked surprised.

Lydia shook her head. "North Carolina."

Sookie and Alcide looked at the other, angry that Eric hadn't told them the whole story. Alcide pulled her into the foyer. "We can't let her go, Alcide. She'll die out there."

"If she wants to go, then let her go."

She scowled up at him, about to protest then she sighed. "I don't like it, but at least let me take her somewhere where I think she'll be safe."

"Where would that be, exactly?"

He nodded his head towards the front door, indicating the cemetery. "Bill's. They're both kings, right? Let them fight over her."


End file.
